It’s that time of the year again. Christmas music is playing in all the stores; the scent of pine hangs in the air; people are starting to rush home with their treasures. (Okay, maybe that’s just me. I’m an early bird Christmas shopper.)
When it comes to Christmas, writers sometimes prepare for an onslaught of Moleskins and pens. Nothing is wrong with those gifts, especially for writers who use Moleskins and nice pens, but the gifts can become – how can one say it tactfully? – a little old. It’s a bit like knowing one is going to receive yet another pair of socks from Grandma. One says “thank you” outwardly but groans inwardly. The gift may be needed if one’s socks have holes in the toes or heels, but it’s not necessarily a gift designed to elicit jubilation.